


of all the comrades that e'er i had

by stevenstamkos



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Goodbyes, NHL Trade(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevenstamkos/pseuds/stevenstamkos
Summary: They knew that it was coming, of course, Ben on the phone with them during the offseason, wondering if he’d be a Flame by the time they met up in Toronto for the World Cup. Trade is a part of the business. That doesn’t mean it makes it easier, losing a brother.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad about Bish :(
> 
> Title from "The Parting Glass" by Ed Sheeran (but actually an Irish traditional song, I was just listening to the Ed Sheeran version)

Steven is in the kitchen when Victor gets home, angrily slamming things around on the counter as he prepares dinner. His skate bag is tossed under the kitchen table, only half-zipped as if Steven had run back home in a hurry. There’s a skate blade poking half-hearted out of it.

“You heard,” Victor says.

Steven’s shoulders tense as he moves the chicken onto the cutting board. “Everyone heard. It was all over Sportsnet and TSN.”

Victor notices Steven’s phone next to him on the counter, dangerously close to the sink.

“We knew it was—”

“Coming, I know,” Steven snaps. “I know.” He keeps his back to Victor, hands steady as he wields the knife, but his first cut into the chicken is so hard the cutting board jumps.

“Ben is my friend too,” Victor says, gentle.

Steven sniffles a little, ducking his head.

They knew that it was coming, of course, Ben on the phone with them during the offseason, wondering if he’d be a Flame by the time they met up in Toronto for the World Cup. Trade is a part of the business. That doesn’t mean it makes it easier, losing a brother.

Victor drops his own bag next to Steven’s, nudging it under the table. He opens the fridge, takes out some zucchini and carrots and takes the peeler out of its drawer.

They prepare the food in silence for a while, and if Steven is more aggressive than usual toward the chicken, Victor doesn’t say anything.

“I was going to skate with the team tomorrow,” Steven says suddenly. His voice is steady, eyes dry now.

Victor pauses over his carrots. “Oh,” he says softly.

“It would’ve been no-contact, just a few drills probably, but I would’ve been on the ice with everyone.” He puts down his knife and rubs his face with the back of his hand, tired. “Maybe get a few shots on Ben. I don’t know.”

“That would have been nice.”

“I wanted to...before anyone got shipped out before the trade deadline.”

“I know.” Victor understands, has seen for months how antsy Steven has been getting as they lost and lost and he worked out his knee, unable to help.

“I just thought, at least one more skate with everyone…”

It had felt like good faith, like a real shot at the Cup, coming out of the offseason with almost the entirety of their roster intact. Felt like the hockey gods smiling down on their little Tampa family.

It feels a lot different now.

Steven picks up the knife again.

“Let me make dinner.”

“You’re tired from practice and you have the game against Ottawa tomorrow. I’ll do it.”

“Steven you’ve been cooking every night—”

“I’m not doing anything else, am I?”

That’s not true. He’s up every day at the crack of dawn, working on conditioning and rehabbing his knee. Victor’s seen him, has had to coax him back to bed sometimes.

“You can’t blame yourself for Ben’s trade.” It would’ve happened regardless of how they played. Salary cap and all that.

Steven nods, staring at the cutting board like the chicken’s going to come back to life and tell him how to solve the Lightning’s problems. “I know. It’s been in the works for a year. I just feel like, I’m the captain, I should’ve been there this season, for everyone.”

Victor takes his hands, runs them gently under warm water before leading him to a seat.

He knows that people are always drifting out of Steven’s life and leaving Steven to pick up the pieces. It’s nothing personal, but it wrecks Steven every time.

It had hurt them both when Vinny left, but Steven had taken it harder. He was Vinny’s rookie, of course.

And Marty...Well, Victor doesn’t question what was going on between Marty and Steven, but whatever it was, it ended with Marty in a Rangers jersey and Steven with the C and a slightly lost look in his eyes.

When people leave, it tears Steven up inside.

But Victor’s still here. Victor signed, only a few days after Steven had. 8 years, just like Steven.

Eight more years with Steven in Tampa, with the best team Victor knows. It had been one of the easiest decisions he’s ever made.

“Let me make dinner.”

This time, Steven lets him.

 

“Do you know what time Ben’s flight is?”

Victor nods. “Tomorrow morning, at 6.” Steven’s mouth is drawn in a tight line, and he pushes the last few bites of food around on his plate. “He texted it to you too,” Victor adds awkwardly.

Steven doesn’t bother checking his phone. “He must be picking his stuff up from Amalie tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon, we should go to his house, say goodbye.”

Victor had been planning to anyway, and he gets up quickly at Steven’s words. Steven presses a quick kiss to his lips, stretching on his toes a bit to reach Victor’s mouth.

“Thanks, for everything tonight,” he says quietly. “I know you’re just as upset as me about Ben.”

It’s what Victor does. Be there, solid and supportive. It’s what he does, on the ice and off.

“The extras you packed before we ate, are they for…?”

Steven nods. “For Ben. He’s probably too stressed tonight to cook.”

“Okay. You wanna grab it? I’ll get the car.”

The drive to Bish’s house is quiet, Steven clutching the still-warm container of food in the passenger seat like it’s a lifeline. Victor wants to turn on the radio, break the silence, but he knows that all his local sports-related radio stations are probably talking about the trade.

The lights are on in Ben’s house, and there are a mess of cars out in front.

Steven doesn’t look surprised. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who came by tonight.”

They wouldn’t be. They’re a tight-knit team, and they don’t let go easy.

Killer answers the door, looking tired. Jo is right behind him, eyes red-rimmed, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Killer says. “Come in. We’ll make some room.”

“Brought dinner for Bish, if he needs it.”

Jo takes Victor’s jacket and tosses it onto a huge pile near the door. “He’s probably not hungry, Stralsy brought some food over earlier.”

Victor makes a detour to the kitchen, putting the food in the fridge. It’s surprisingly full. He slips the chicken between two small cakes and an unopened takeout box, from what looks like Ben’s favorite restaurant. There are three bottles of wine on the counter, also unopened.

Looks like they weren’t the only ones who came over with gifts, either.

The whole team is in the living room, even some of the AHL callups. Val is squashed in a corner, with Pointer next to him making vaguely sad eyes at Ben. Cally, who is supposed to be resting his hip, is moving some stuff into boxes, helped by Boyler and Coby.

Hell, even Kuch managed to find his way off his couch and...onto Ben’s couch. He’s leaning heavily against Pally, who has Tyler in his lap, moping.

Ben himself is talking to Vasy, their heads bent together. Victor can’t help but overhear a bit.

“You know the team trusts you, right? You’re an amazing goalie.”

“I hope—hope we do some good job, make you proud Bishie,” Vasy says in his soft voice, stuttering a bit in his unsure English.

“You will,” Ben says, loyal to a fault. “I know you will. Team’s in good hands. We’re gonna—You guys are gonna be great.”

It hurts, listening to Ben trip over the fact that he’s not one of them anymore.

Vasy reaches up and pats Ben gently on top of his head, the way he would tap Ben on the mask whenever they were on the ice together.

When Ben looks up, his eyes are red from what was probably hours of crying, and Victor can see tear tracks still on his cheeks. There are a pile of wadded up tissues on the coffee table next to Val’s feet, probably not all Ben's judging from all the red eyes in the room.

“Hey Stammer, Heddy,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’m glad you came by.” His voice only wavers a little.

Steven nearly trips over Ceddy’s legs as he goes to hug Ben, but Ben catches him.

“I brought you food, if you want to microwave it before you leave in the morning,” Steven says, practical as ever. It’s the captain in him, feeling responsible for everyone. “It’s in the fridge. Might be a bit heavy for your first meal, but—”

“Thanks,” Ben says fervently. “Everyone brought over so much, I don’t know how I’ll eat it all. I really can’t thank—You guys are my family—”

There are tears in Ben’s eyes again, and Steven looks like he’s about to tear up too, so Victor steps in.

He touches his forehead to Ben’s, hand coming up to cup the back of Ben’s neck. It’s their greeting, a d-man to his goalie.

“We’re here. All night if you need us.” He looks into Ben’s eyes, wills him to understand that hockey is a business but team is family. “You’re still one of us, Ben.”

Ben nods, looking a little heartbroken and a lot grateful.

Then the doorbell is ringing and Killer is getting up again and leading JT into the house with a box of chocolates. They’re the nice kind, because it’s JT. Victor doesn’t even know where you can buy nice chocolates at this time of night.

Ben can’t eat them all before he leaves, so naturally the rest of the guys help out.

 

It feels late when Ben finally puts an end to their night of team bonding. His bags are packed, goalie sticks and his favorite mask sitting on top.

“Is that all you’re taking to LA?”

“I just need the necessities. I’ll come back for the rest later when I put the house up for sale,” he explains, catching Victor eyeing the pile. Victor supposes he knows. Ben’s moved around a bit in his career; Victor hasn’t left Tampa since he was drafted.

Still, it feels so…final.

(Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Vasy sadly stroking the Tron mask before kissing it. As if saying goodbye to Ben Bishop, Lightning goaltender.

Goalies are odd creatures, but Victor can understand.)

Ben is standing in the middle of a pile of sad-eyed hockey players, shooing them onto their feet.

“You guys have a game tomorrow, so get out of my house,” he says, trying for playful and landing somewhere between awkward and half-hearted. Victor can tell he doesn’t really want them to leave, but they can’t stay in his house all night.

“Yeah, we gotta put the babies to bed.” Boyler points at Vasy, Jo, and Brayden, indicating who exactly the babies are. It’s an old joke in the room, Boyler obviously trying for normalcy.

Jo squawks. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Always be a baby to me, Jo,” Ben says, giving Jo another hug. Jo clings back.

Victor looks around the room. For some of these guys, they’ve never known any other goalie but Bish. It’ll be hard, adjusting. For everyone.

One by one, the guys come up to give Ben their last hugs. A few of them are misty-eyed. Ben definitely is as he folds his ex-teammates up in his arms.

“I will score many times for you,” Kuch says, a solemn promise.

Ben smiles. “As long as it isn’t on me.”

“Hey, maybe.” That’s Kuch. Takes no prisoners. But he squeezes Ben tight, and Ben lifts him a little as he hugs back.

Tyler is less cryptic. “Take care, Bish. Come back and visit us, won’t you?”

“I will, Tampa will always be a part of me.”

Ben squeezes Vasy so hard Vasy squeaks a little before staggering off.

Victor wonders who the next team hugger will be.

“You’ll be okay?” he asks quietly as he lets go of Ben.

Ben nods, arms dropping to his sides. “I knew I wouldn’t be re-signed after my contract was done, so this would be my last season here anyway. Been preparing for a year. Still feels...”

Yeah. Knowing it’s coming doesn’t really soften the blow. And there are more moves coming.

Steven drifts up to them, looking exhausted. He’s been working on conditioning recently, getting ready to return to the ice. It’s been wearing him out.

“Get some sleep, Ben. Don’t miss your flight,” he says.

“Aye aye, captain.” Ben even gives him a funny little salute, always trying to keep the mood light. “Any last orders?”

“Yeah. You better invite us to your wedding.”

Ben’s lips twist into a sad smile. “Course. I’m still getting married in Tampa.”

“Good. That’s your home.” Steven pats him firmly on the chest before taking a step back. He looks torn for a second, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. Victor puts his hand on his back, comforting. “I wish we got to play together more recently.”

“Me too, Stammer. You’re the best damn captain I’ve ever had.”

“Best goalie,” Steven says. It’s not an exaggeration.

“Take care, both of you, okay? I gotta go, gotta back Quickie up tomorrow in Minnesota.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

It’s weird, saying goodbye. They’ve walked out of Ben’s house dozens of times over the years. Feels weird to know that this is the last time they’ll walk down these steps after their friend closes the door behind them.

Steven throws himself into the passenger seat, pulling the bill of his snapback down to cover his face. Victor squeezes his hand before starting the engine.

They get ready for bed normally, and in the calm familiarity of their bedroom, it almost feels like nothing's changed.

“I have to be up early tomorrow, welcome Budaj to the team,” Steven says, getting under the covers.

Victor nods as he joins him. “Our new backup.” There’s going to be a Bish-shaped hole in the locker room, and that’ll take some time to heal. Poor Budaj won’t be able to fill it right away.

“Mmhm. Make sure he knows we appreciate having him, etcetera.” Steven pauses. “He’s not Bish, but—”

“It’s hockey.” For people like them, it’s a mantra.

“Yeah.” Steven sighs, pulls Victor to him and rests his head on Victor’s chest. “I’m glad you’re here, Victor,” he says softly.

Eight years, Victor thinks. That’s how long he has with Steven. Eight years, enough to run until retirement maybe, or close to it, if Yzerman lets them have that.

They’d talked about it extensively last summer, Steven calling Victor in Sweden whenever they weren’t together, running through the list of teams courting him. Victor responding with contract extension negotiations. Talking about stuff like “distance” and “our relationship” and “Cup chances.”

Steven didn’t say “Don’t leave me” and Victor didn’t say it either. They’re professionals, after all.

In the end, they got eight more years together. Luckier than most people.

It’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Bish actually left like two hours after his trade was announced, so he didn't stay the night in Tampa. But let's ignore that for the sake of my heart. Also yes he is getting married in Tampa!!


End file.
